


Hell

by glacis



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-30
Updated: 2010-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-06 20:45:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glacis/pseuds/glacis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snape reluctantly asks for advice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hell

Hell, by seeker.  Snape gets advice from an unlikely source.  Written for the Severus Snape Fuh-Q Fest (Snape/Black pairing).

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Severus Snape was in hell.

To a bystander, it would appear he was in Hogwarts. Finally at peace a year after the climactic battle that rocked the wizarding world, when Voldemort and his minions were irrevocably wiped from the face of the planet and the Muggle news reports aurora borealis in the oddest places for weeks. Feted and respected, if certainly not adored, by his peers and those 'in the know' for his crucial part in the final showdown.

As far as Snape was concerned, he was in hell.

He was in love, an unlikely enough occurrence for a wizard who prided himself on his emotional control, but then odd things often happened when a man turned forty. He tried to tell himself it was a mid-life crisis. Tried a potion. Tried a spell. Tried a hex, then cursed himself for three days afterward, since hexing oneself isn't the easiest nor most intelligent thing to do.

He hadn't the faintest idea what to do about it.

Not the hexing, the love. Oh, he was quite up to snuff on the mechanics, once clothing was doffed and intercourse initiated. He could read, after all. No, it was the ... first step.

Over the canyon wall, or might as well be, as far as he could tell. Because the man he loved, while he'd responded positively (if cautiously) to Snape's rather formal courting, was definitely the wait-and-see, won't-make-assumptions, certainly-won't-take-the-first-step sort of wolf.

Er, man.

Snape slumped at his desk, staring blindly at the wall, absently brushing the end of the quill up and down the edge of his nose. He loved Remus Lupin, had done so quite helplessly since the werewolf's triumphant return. The reinstatement of both Remus and Sirius Black -- he paused to give the name the sneer it deserved before continuing with his meandering thoughts -- was a mixed blessing, in that it brought the object of his affections back into his orbit even as that object was accompanied by his flea-bitten mangy hound of a best friend.

Which led to the next problem. Getting nowhere with his admittedly limited courting skills, Snape desperately needed to ask someone's advice on what his next step should be. He'd attempted to raise the subject with Dumbledore, only to retreat in confusion before he could actually get the words out. His skin heated even at the memory, and he quietly gnashed his teeth.

The only other 'friend' he had, in the loose sense of the term, was Poppy Pomfrey, with whom he'd bonded over healing potion cauldrons in the dark days of the last battles. But he could no more imagine asking Poppy for advice than he had been able to actually ask Dumbledore.

As well, he had the sneaking suspicion Poppy wouldn't know how to begin with a man either, if the kisses behind the curtain in the infirmary he'd caught her in with Hooch were any indication. He sighed.

He had no choice. Not if he was ever going to get anywhere with Remus. If he couldn't turn to his only friends ... he'd have to turn to Lupin's best friend. The one person in the world who knew what would turn Remus' head, catch his attention, melt his reserve. A person who certainly had enough experience with seduction and sexual relations, with both genders, to qualify as an expert to give advice on his dilemma.

The fact that he'd rather eat live snails than ask Sirius Black for ANYTHING made not one whit of difference. He needed Remus. Black could, if he could be persuaded, bribed or intimidated into it, help.

Snape slapped the quill down on the virgin parchment, brushed feather fluff from his nose, sighed deeply, and went in search of Black.

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Initial approach hadn't gone well. At all.

"Black!" he'd said imperiously. Black looked up from the text he was reading and raised a brow at Snape.

"What on earth do you want?" Black drawled, eyeing him up and down then returning to his book with an insulting sniff.

Snape tried not to growl. Instead he reached down, closed the book shut firmly and put his hand atop it. Black gave him an incredulous look.

"I need to speak with you." Snape cleared his throat. Black opened his mouth, no doubt to launch into one of their standard arguments. Determined not to be sidetracked, Snape hurried on, "I need ... your advice."

Black looked rather amusing with his mouth hanging open for the three seconds it took him to process the words. When he did, his jaw shut and his incredulity turned to suspicion. "With what?" he asked shortly, assuming a defensive position, as if waiting for the punch line to a joke at his expense.

Clearing his throat, Snape said some of the hardest words of a life filled with them. "I wish for you to assist me in seducing Remus Lupin." Black's mouth fell open again.

Then he started laughing so hard he nearly rolled right out of his chair.

It was a struggle not to whack the loony bastard over the thick skull with his own book, but Snape manfully restrained himself. When the volume of hilarity had subsided to the point his voice could be heard over it, he hissed, "It's not funny, damn you. I love the man, I've done every bloody thing I can think of short of stripping naked and painting 'marry me' across my body and streaking the Great Hall, and he's *not* *getting* *it*. He's your friend, Black -- surely if anyone knows what it takes to break through that wall he's got built around himself, it's you!!"

His voice had risen to a roar by the time he finished, quite drowning out the lingering chuckles from Black. In the silence that followed his shout, he watched Black carefully. The man appeared to be lost in a haze, his eyes unfocused, his tongue absently stroking his lips. Snape found the movement disturbing, for some reason.

"Naked?" Black finally murmured. "Body paint?" His eyes snapped back from the thousand yard stare to Snape's face, and an unholy grin lit them. "Streaking the Great Hall?"

It was useless. It was worse than useless; it was humiliating for no good purpose. Snape drew himself up to his full height and glared down at the still-seated Black, wrapping his arms around his middle and holding on so he didn't pull his hair out with sheer frustration. Or throw a hex at Black that would pretty much ensure Remus never spoke to him again as a result. With the words 'don't bother, there's nothing an imbecile such as yourself could have worth knowing' trembling on his lips, he whipped his head back and opened his mouth.

Black moved faster than Snape'd thought possible, and shot up to stand less than an inch away. "Okay."

It took a moment for Snape's tongue to reverse the razors on their way out, and the result was a garbled, "Huh?"

Black grinned. "I'll help you, not because I like you," his grin widened at Snape's snort, "but because I happen to know Remus would enjoy the result. But I can't tell you."

"Then what good are you?" Snape pointed out waspishly. "Or is that a rhetorical question, since the logical answer is none, never have been, never will be?"

The grin took on an edge. With teeth. "Can't tell you because I have to show you. Telling won't do any good. Show by example, that's what works for me."

"Not the vocabulary to cover complex topics, eh, Black?" Snape sneered.

Black kissed him.

Snape had NOT seen that coming. He'd expected, at most, some laughter at his expense, then three or four suggestions to follow. Ideas for outings, Remus' favorite foods, perhaps if Snape was lucky the revelation of an erogenous zone to get him started.

Not a hands-on demonstration.

And this was certainly that. Black's hands were all over him, flicking buttons open down the front of his robes with speedy efficiency while dropping little sucking kisses all over his lips. Snape had no idea what to do in the face of such an assault, so opened his mouth to bid him stop.

Got a mouthful of Black's tongue for his effort.

Was rather astonished to find himself sucking on it in turn.

The moan rumbling out of Black's chest brought Snape to the realization that somewhere along the way his robes had fallen off and his shirt been opened, because while he was sucking on Black's tongue, Black's fingers began to pluck at his nipples.

His own moan surprised him. Once he realized it was coming from him.

By that point, Black's hands had left his nipples and opened his waistband. Snape found his own hands bound by the twist of material from his robe and shirt, hanging off his wrists, and he shook them until they were free. Raising his hands, no doubt to push Black away, he was astonished all over again when his fingers, of their own volition, wound through Black's long dark hair. In the past several months it had grown longer, past his shoulders to mid-back, and regained the shine Snape remembered from their youth. It felt like heavy silk against his palms. It moved away from him, down, down, and his hands followed, unwilling to release their prize.

"Please," he whispered, but wasn't quite sure why, until Black licked the head of his prick, free and leaking. Snape had no idea when that happened, but his hold on Black's hair was fortuitous, as it allowed him to hold on as Black sucked him down.

Ferociously.

It had been so long since anyone had done that to him Snape couldn't clearly remember when it had been. He certainly never would have expected to look down at his crotch and see Sirius Black, cobalt eyes staring right back up at him, slurping down the length of his cock like it was one of Bott's Special Long-lasting Lollies.

Misnamed, at any rate, since the way Black was going down on him, he would be anything but long-lasting. And surely he couldn't be sweet, although judging by the ravenous look on Black's face, he must be rather tasty.

Climax took him by surprise, but he tried to do the gentlemanly thing and give warning. Black merely hummed, a sensation that made any attempt at self-control on Snape's part moot, and sucked harder. Bolts of lightning in vivid red and silver went off behind Snape's eyelids, and he humped hard against Black's face, ignoring the cries of outrage from the tiny part of his mind that wasn't melting in sheer shock that he was, well, humping Sirius Black's face.

All the strength in his body spilled out his prick, sucked out with great verve and skill. Snape's bones melted along with his brain, and his knees gave out. He slid down into a heap loosely surrounded by Black's arms, and Black kissed him again.

This time Snape opened his mouth and sucked Black's tongue on purpose.

He was sweeter than he thought. He explored Black's mouth with his tongue, lapping up every last taste of his own spunk he could find, his hands still clenched in Black's hair. When he had to stop spelunking or die for want of oxygen he finally broke the kiss.

Black grinned at him.

"Smug, self-satisfied, preening peacock, how is THAT going to help me with Remus?" Snape tried to snap. It came out a languid hiss, like a sun-baked snake overfull with tender mouse on a lazy afternoon.

"So that's what a satiated snake sounds like," Black teased him, licking the side of his neck under his ear, sending a shiver down Snape's spine. "Always wondered about that."

"Answer the question, nitwit," Snape purred.

Black did, but not with words. Instead he shifted sideways, deftly moving Snape over onto his side, then up on his knees, then curling up behind him. Snape found himself staring down at the flagstones, face pillowed on crossed arms, arse up in the air and thighs spread before he knew he'd moved. He opened his mouth to demand an explanation.

All that came out was "WhaaaaaaaaaaohmyGOD!" as Black made a move he must have perfected as a dog and licked Snape's arsehole all the way in to his tailbone. Having never had what felt like a prehensile tongue rooting around up his fundament, the sheer novelty would have been enough to get a rise out of him. The fact that tongue was incredibly talented made the job that much quicker.

It seemed to go on forever, as Black slurped and probed and stretched him, and Snape (loudly) lost his mind and any inhibitions he ever might have had. He wasn't even aware that he was writhing like a cat in heat and howling much like one as well, and he certainly didn't know he was screaming, "Fuck me! Put it in me! Shove it up me, NOW!" or he would have been mortified.

Much later, Black took great pleasure in letting him know what he'd missed.

At the time, however, Black was much more interested in following Snape's demands than in teasing him with them. Shifting up, running his tongue from the well-wetted hole up the crease and along the spine above, he placed a single biting kiss directly between Snape's shoulder blades. As Snape arched away from the bite, Black pushed his prick into Snape's arse.

Both of them howled, then.

It took some work, and more patience than either expected, but eventually Black was balls-deep in Snape's arse. From there it was a wild ride, as Black varied the pace just enough to explode what few living brain cells remained squeaking in Snape's mind, and Snape bucked like a wild thing under Black's touch. Black reached round Snape's hip and grabbed his bouncing prick, pulling it in time with his thrusts, and that was all it took.

The second orgasm shattered Snape, as Black rode him through it, gentling his hold on the chafed cock but not sparing the battered arse at all. By the time he'd finished spurting, Snape could do nothing but hang from Black's grip as Black put his back into it. The last spasms from his climax were still making his arse ripple as Black threw back his head, yelped once, and shot hard.

When the world stopped spinning, Snape found himself curled up on the floor, Black curled up behind him, spent prick squashed cozily up against the back of Snape's thighs, ropy arms around Snape's torso. Snape's own sore cock lay quiescent and exhausted against his belly, and his hands had wrapped themselves around Black's forearms. Black's face was pushed into Snape's nape, as he nosed lazily through the hair to nuzzle the sweaty skin there.

"How," Snape wheezed when he could remember how to talk, "will this help me seduce the love of my life?"

"Oh, that's easy," Black panted back. One arm unwrapped from Snape's body and came up, fingers catching under his chin and tilting his head so that he was forced to look up. Leaning against the wall next to the closed door, Remus Lupin, robes open and wet cock caught in his fist, smiled lazily, and lovingly, down at Snape. "He likes to watch."

As Remus pushed himself away from the wall and prowled over to where Snape lay, the thought struck him that he might have gotten more than he bargained for when he fell in love with the werewolf. Then Remus lay down on the floor next to his head and pushed his cock against Snape's mouth. His lips fell open, automatically sucking in the salty head. Remus' sable eyes gleamed approvingly at him.

"I like to play, too," he whispered, and Snape would have cheered if his mouth hadn't been full. As he raised one arm to wrap it around Remus' hips, taking the full length of cock down his throat, Snape felt a renewed nudge from behind, and gave an internal sigh of surrender.

He'd take what he could get, and if that meant he had to put up with Black to have Remus ... he sucked in a deep breath through his nose as Black did something obscene with hip rotation, raked over his prostate and rocked him to the core ... if he was in hell, he might as well enjoy it.

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END


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